


L is for Lost

by Janieshi



Series: Alphabet [12]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Animal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2019-10-09 17:59:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17411561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janieshi/pseuds/Janieshi
Summary: In which Black Hayate spends an exciting, action-packed day trying to track down his missing human.





	L is for Lost

_Lost/ läst/ adjective - unable to find one's way; not knowing one's whereabouts; having gone astray._

* * *

 

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Hawkeye was saying, as she hastily shoved articles of clothing into a small suitcase. “I’m sorry I can’t bring you along this time. But it’s only for one day, and Ms. Climpson agreed to check in on you while I’m gone.”

As she spoke, her puppy Black Hayate watched her movements with great interest, his head slightly tilted to the left.

Packing things meant that she was going away somewhere – and that she might not be back for a while. Hayate didn’t like that idea. Not at _all_. He whined softly.

Snapping the locks on her case, his mistress finally turned her full attention to him, and leaned down to scratch his head in _exactly_ the right place, just behind his ears.

“Be a good dog, Black Hayate, okay?” she said softly.

_Good_ _dog…_ oh yeah _,_ he knew that one! His mistress said that whenever he’d done something that pleased her. Sometimes it meant he got a treat. Hayate wagged his tail, hopefully. But his mistress just ruffled his fur a bit more and smiled down at him.

There was a knock on the door, then, so he darted off to investigate.

The scent on the other side of the door was familiar…Colonel! Mistress wouldn’t want to chase _him_ from their territory, Hayate was certain of that. Plus, he liked Colonel. He gave really nice belly rubs, and sometimes he slipped Hayate scraps of people-food when Mistress wasn’t looking. So Hayate sat patiently at the door, all but vibrating with excitement but doing his best to stay still and ‘wait,’ the way his mistress had taught him.

She was only a few steps behind him, anyway, carrying her suitcase in one hand and grabbing her overcoat from the back of a kitchen chair with the other.

“Just a moment, sir!” she called out as she shrugged into her coat. “Hayate, down!” she added, looking at the puppy. Hayate obediently dropped to his belly. “Good dog,” she said again. And this time, she _did_ give him a treat - a yummy crunchy one that tasted like peanut butter. Peanut butter was the best!

The biscuit distracted him just long enough - the door shut firmly behind Mistress and Colonel, leaving Hayate inside alone.

They’d forgotten him!

Hayate let out a high-pitched whine and nudged the door firmly with his snout. It didn’t budge. Whining louder still, he jumped up against it, but that was no good either. Finally, he yipped sharply. Couldn’t Mistress or Colonel hear him? Maybe they hadn’t noticed that he hadn’t gotten out before the door had closed?  But they didn’t stop or call out to him - their footsteps moved steadily down the hall, growing ever more distant.

Frantic, Hayate tried scratching at the door - but that, too, was useless. He turned and raced into the bedroom, where there was a window that overlooked the street. Maybe they weren’t really leaving yet -maybe they were coming right back. Or maybe they’d see him at the window and realize that he was still trapped inside!

He hesitated at the foot of the bed – he wasn’t supposed to go up there. _His_ place was on the fluffy cushion on the floor, and his mistress had been _very_ clear on the matter.

But occasionally, on the bad nights where Hawkeye woke the puppy with her thrashing and choked-off cries, and he whimpered softly until she came back to herself, she would scoop him up, bury her damp face in his fur and stroke his soft ears until her sobs had subsided. And on those nights, he was allowed to curl up right against her side and fall asleep with her fingers carding lightly through his fur.

Okay, so he wasn’t _usually_ allowed on the bed – but he was sometimes! And wouldn’t Mistress be upset when she realized that he wasn’t following her like he was meant to? Hayate decided to risk it.

From the higher vantage point, Hayate was able to see his mistress climbing into the car parked below. Colonel was already inside. Hayate placed a paw against the glass and whimpered pitifully. But neither human looked up. And then the car was moving away, leaving him behind.

If the neighbor hadn’t come by at that very moment, Hayate would have been doomed to stare sadly out of the window all day long. But the sound of a soft knock, followed by the grating of a key in the lock, had him leaping off the bed and running full tilt for the door.

“Lieutenant Hawkeye? Are you still here, dear?” Ms. Climpson called, timidly poking her head around the door and peering into the apartment. “Oh bother, I suppose I’ve just missed her,” she said to herself, frowning. “Never mind; I’ll simply ask her about it tomorrow.”

But before the elderly woman could slip back out into the hallway, a black and white blur whipped past her legs, knocking her off balance.

“Good gracious!” she cried, startled, as she clung to the doorframe. “Oh! Oh, _no_! No, Black Hayate, wait! Please come back! You _mustn’t_! Whatever will your mistress say?”

But Ms. Climpson wasn’t his mistress, and Hayate had no intention of obeying the old woman’s pleas.

He had a car to chase after.

The puppy scurried along the sidewalk to the place where the car carrying his mistress had been parked only moments before, pausing here and there to sniff. Which way had the car gone? That way? Or this? Wait - yes – he could smell Colonel’s cologne, just here. So…if he followed the same road, he should be able to catch up with them, right?

He just had to be careful to keep off of the asphalt. Mistress had always impressed upon him the importance of staying on the white, concrete parts of the road whenever they went out, and Hayate was a _good dog_ who followed the orders of his beloved mistress. So, on the concrete he would stay!

As he trotted briskly along the sidewalk, Hayate noticed a small cluster of people standing near a covered bench. They weren’t _together_ together, not like a pack or anything, but they were all standing in a group and staring off into the same general direction. They seemed to be waiting for something.  

Even as Hayate looked around, wondering what they were looking for and whether it was a threat he should be worried about, a large growly sort of vehicle, much bigger than the Colonel’s car, rumbled to a halt at the curb just in front of them.

The Bus! Hayate remembered The Bus! He’d ridden on it before, lots of times! Always with Mistress, before now, but he knew how it worked. It could take him right to The Park! Or, more importantly, to Work, which was likely where Mistress and Colonel had gone off to.

So Hayate quietly joined the line of humans, patiently waiting his turn to scamper up the steps. The driver didn’t see him at first. But the passenger sitting in the very first seat gasped in shock.

“Oh!” she cried. “Oh, my, where did _you_ come from?”

The driver glanced over his shoulder to ask her who she was talking to, and then did a double take.

“Say, isn’t that the Lieutenant’s dog?” asked a man sitting opposite. “You know, the blonde gal from the across the way - she lives in my building. I see ‘em out walking sometimes.”

Hayate was busy climbing up into the seat across from the first woman, next to a window. He liked to be able to see outside. There were always so many exciting things to look at. Feeling the curious stares of his fellow passengers, he ‘sat’ in the place he’d chosen and cautiously wagged his tail.

It was fine for him to sit on the seat, wasn’t it? Usually he rode on Mistress’s lap, but since she wasn’t here...it was different from the furniture at home, he was pretty sure. The bus seats didn’t seem to belong to anyone in particular. At least, they didn’t smell nearly as clean as the couch cushions at home, and he could tell that lots of different people sat on them all throughout the day. So, surely it was okay if he did, too.

Right?

Just to be on the safe side, he gave the humans his very best cute-and-innocent expression, the one that always worked so well on Mistress’s pack members. Sure enough, the humans started smiling indulgently. That was a good sign. When they smiled and crooned like that, humans were quite amenable.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the driver said, chuckling. “Would you look at that?”

“What a cute little doggie!” a teenage girl gushed.

“And so well-behaved!” another woman cried.

“I wonder what he’s doing all alone, though?” a young man wondered aloud. “Think he’s AWOL?”

“Sure looks like the little bloke decided to amuse hisself today, eh? Out on the town, like?” someone else said.

“Maybe he’s got a hot date,” another passenger spoke up, grinning. “He wouldn’t want his lady lieutenant tagging along for that!”

This remark earned him a few hearty laughs from his fellow passengers.

“Well, I don’t suppose it does no harm,” the driver said, finally closing the door. “Not being full up today, I think we can spare him the seat. You don’t mind, do you Missus Agnes?” he addressed the last remark to the plump middle-aged lady who had first spoken.

“Oh, no, not at all,” the woman replied. “He only startled me, is all. What a clever dog, to work out how to ride the bus to get where he wants to go!”

And so she and the various other passengers chuckled and shook their heads and went back to minding their own business.

* * *

Being only a dog (albeit a very clever one), Black Hayate had no way of knowing that the bus route that day was slightly different than the one he’d ridden before with Hawkeye.

Weekdays, on which they usually rode the bus, there was an express of sorts. In between their apartment building and their usual stop a block away from Central Command, there were only three other stops:  another residential one in the heart of the military-subsidized housing,  the park right across from the shopping district, and the courthouse. The weekend route, on the other hand, was far more circuitous, making several additional stops along the way: a farmer’s market, the public library, Central University, the Amestrian National Theatre, and the Central City train station.

So, mistaking the marble steps of the public library for those of Central Command, Hayate confidently exited the bus after the usual number of stops.

“Bye-bye, doggie!”  “Have a good time, pup!” “See ya later, little fella!” cried his fellow passengers, laughing and waving out their windows.

Hayate wagged his tail and offered the humans his most cheerful doggie smile. Very soon, now, he’d find his mistress, and wouldn’t she be pleased that he’d managed to catch up to her all by himself? He couldn’t wait!

But as the bus pulled away from the curb, Hayate realized that the smell of this place wasn’t quite right – it wasn’t Work at all! There was a lot of paper and ink and humans in this building, too, but the smells of starched woolen cloth, leather boots, stale coffee, metal and the faint reek of gunpowder – those were all missing.

Hayate was sure that he’d never been in this place before - and he had no idea how to find his mistress from here. Or how to get back home, either.

He whined low in his throat, sniffing the air indecisively. As he took a few tentative steps in the direction the bus had gone, one of the school children coming out of the library noticed him.

“Oooh, puppy!” the little girl cried. Hastily setting her books down, the girl rushed toward Hayate with her grubby little paws outstretched.

Alarmed, Hayate darted out of reach. Small humans like this one were dangerous. Especially the female ones - the males mostly just shouted and chased after him, trying to grab at his ears or tail. Well, and sometimes they’d throw rocks and other things that hurt when they hit you. But the young females were sly – they tended to sneak up from behind and scoop you up, and then they’d squeeze too tightly or tie uncomfortable things around your neck.

Either way, though, Hayate knew that small humans like this one could be quite cruel when the mood struck.

“Hey wait! Come back! Puppy!” the little voice cried plaintively.

Ignoring her, Hayate ran faster, furry little feet carrying him far away from the steps of the Not Work building. When he could no longer hear the small human’s cries behind him, he slowed to a trot and looked around, trying to get his bearings.

There were lots of small buildings here, short square ones that were full of interesting smells: sugar and coffee, leather, cotton and wool and silk, bread, flowers, paint and paper and ink. In fact, Hayate had run back towards home, had he only known it, and was standing now in the center of the fashionable shopping district.

Plenty of humans were milling about between the shops, peering in windows and carrying packages. But none of them were wearing the matching clothing Mistress and Colonel and their pack wore, so maybe this wasn’t a place they would come? Hayate decided he’d better keep moving and look for Mistress someplace else.

Warily, he made his way along the sidewalk, passing a coffee shop and a shoe store without incident. But as he trotted past the doorway of a popular haberdasher, a man dashed heedlessly out into the street, and trod right on Hayate’s front paw.

His indignant yelp startled the man, who hadn’t been looking where he was putting his great big boot-clad feet. As the man jerked back in surprise, the stack of wrapped packages he’d had carefully balanced in his arms shuddered, swayed, and finally came tumbling down – several of them whacking poor Hayate on his hindquarters and back. With another pained yelp, Hayate flew past a bakery, a florist, and a stationary shop before hanging a hard left into an alleyway, where he cowered behind a large stack of wooden crates.

That had hurt! Hayate carefully inspected his injured paw, which was sore but not really damaged much. The sharp corners of those heavy boxes had really hurt him more, but he wasn’t bleeding anywhere, so that was all right. Cautiously, he poked his head out of the alleyway. He was obviously going to have to be a lot more careful without his Mistress to lead him and protect him from all these unforeseen dangers, he realized.

Back the way he’d come, Hayate saw the man who’d stepped on him, gesticulating wildly at an older woman who seemed to be scolding him. (“I didn’t do it on purpose, lady! And it wasn’t even your dog, so why the hell are you screaming at me!?” “You young men today! Always in such a hurry, not paying any attention to their surroundings, and running roughshod over women and children and poor defenseless beasts! You might have crushed the poor thing, you brute!”)

And in the other direction, there was…wait. Hayate sniffed the air, intent. He knew that smell! Grass and trees and water and mud – it was The Park!

Following his nose, the puppy scampered down the block, moving away from Mr. Stompy Boots and Ms. Loud Voice. Forgetting all about Mistress’s injunction to stay on the white bits of road, he gleefully ran out into the street when he came to the next intersection. Fortunately for him, there didn’t happen to be any vehicles nearby, and he made it across the road and into the grass without further incident.

The Park! The Park was always so much fun – ooh, butterfly!

Hayate chased the odd little creature for a few minutes, stalking it as it fluttered along the edges of a flowerbed. As it rode the breeze out of his reach, he spotted a lizard, which he chased under a bush and into a hole…which smelled tantalizingly of gophers.

He spent quite some time excavating the gopher hole, but reached neither the lizard nor the gopher. By and by, a soft scratching sound distracted him. He turned sharply, ears and nose on the alert.

He quickly spotted a fat brown squirrel, rifling through some dead leaves at the foot of a tree. Barking furiously, he chased the nasty Fluffy Rat up the tree, where it sat on an out-of-reach branch and taunted him for a while, chattering rudely and waving its tail at him. When it grew bored and disappeared into a hole, Hayate gave it one last stern bark before finally recalling that he was _supposed_ to be finding his mistress.

Stopping at the pond for a quick drink, Hayate almost forgot himself again when he saw the ducks. But no, wait! Mistress didn’t like it when he barked at the ducks. Or at the squirrels, either, he remembered, ducking his head in shame. Mistress always said to “leave it,” whenever he tried to chase ducks, or squirrels, or cats…or any other aggravating creature that came too close. And then she continued on her way with her head held high, calm and unconcerned: showing the world that she wasn’t the least bit threatened by their presence.

She was so brave and strong, his mistress. And Hayate wished that she was here with him now.  

Maybe she’d throw Ball. She was always so happy when he brought it back to her, even if she did just turn around and throw it away again. With a heavy sigh, Hayate flopped down into the cool grass. Resting his head on his forepaws, he wondered what he should do next.

Maybe…maybe he could try following someone to Work. All the humans at Work seemed to wear the same matching woolen cloth coverings as Mistress and Colonel and the others. So if he saw another human in the same…now, what did mistress call the blue wool thing? Uniform! That was it. So if there was another human wearing that same _uniform_ , then maybe they would be going to Work too, and he could follow them right to it!

Leaping to his feet, Black Hayate quickly looked around for a human. But…there didn’t seem to be anyone wearing a uniform about at the moment. The only people nearby seemed to be young mothers or nannies, pushing strollers or holding fast to the chubby hands of toddlers. Each one of them had cloth coverings protecting their skin, too, of course, but none that looked like the ones Mistress and her pack mates wore.

Weren’t humans smart? Hayate thought. Even without proper fur coats of their own, they still managed to find a way to keep warm and dry.

Take that old man just sitting down on the park bench, for example. He had a fluffy scarf wrapped around his neck, and a nice big coat with lots of pockets…oh? What was in that sack?

Black Hayate watched with great interest as the old man pulled a paper bag out of one of his pockets, reached inside, and began strewing the contents along the dirt path in front of him. His sensitive nose quivered.

Seeds? No…bread crumbs! And they smelled pretty yummy, too. Why was the old man dumping them on the ground?

As the puppy moved closer, a fat pigeon fluttered to the ground near the old man, followed by another, and then another. In moments, there were dozens of fat blue-grey birds cooing and pecking at the crumbs. Hayate stalked closer to the flock, keeping his body very low to the ground so they wouldn’t see him. Closer…closer…just a bit farther now…

With joyful barks, Black Hayate ran headlong at the birds, scattering them. Nipping playfully, he chased the stragglers this way and that as they flapped indignantly out of his reach.

“Oi! Cut it out, you filthy mongrel! Leave my birds alone!” the old man squawked. He struggled to his feet and waved his cane at Black Hayate, who eyed it with curiosity.

Did the old man want to play? Maybe he’d throw the big stick for Hayate to bring back, like Mistress did with Ball. But no, the man looked angry, and he was shouting. Hayate took a hesitant step backwards, but it was already too late.

The old man swung his cane wildly in Hayate’s direction, and the edge of it connected with the dog’s shoulder. With a yelp of pain, he recoiled and cowered on the ground, but the old man was coming towards him now.

And Hayate had no interest in being struck again.

Dragging himself to his feet, he ran. He heard the old man shouting something behind him, and so he picked up the pace, tearing across grass and flowerbeds and mud puddles and gravel heedlessly. Something stabbed his left hind paw quite suddenly, but Hayate couldn’t risk stopping, not when there was an angry human chasing after him.

He plowed through the hedge that marked the boundary of the park and nearly choked himself when his collar caught on one of the branches. A quick twist and wriggle left the collar dangling from the offending branch, and a slightly bedraggled Hayate limped out of the bushes and into the road.

Just as he registered the asphalt under his paws - which he remembered that he was _not_ supposed to stand on – a loud squealing, grinding noise alerted him to the car that was barreling directly towards him. Terrified, Black Hayate hunkered down low and braced himself for the attack. The car managed to avoid hitting him, only just barely, swerving at the last minute and screeching to a halt against the opposite curb.

Hayate watched the female driver climb out of the car and turn in his direction. As she began to stagger towards him, he decided that he did not need any more angry humans yelling at him today. 

Gathering what remained of his strength, he fled, ignoring the burning pain in his paw. Weaving his way in between people’s legs, street signs, trash cans, mailboxes, and light posts, Hayate turned corner after corner, darting down alleyways and squeezing past parked cars and delivery vans.

At last he reached a dead end, and was forced to stop. Panting too hard to have breath left to whimper, he limped over to a small space between a trash bin and a chain link fence, and sat down to inspect his aching paw.

There was some sort of thorn in it, he realized. It was bleeding a little still. But although he chewed at it, and licked the sore area, he could not seem to work it loose. Whining softly, Hayate wondered what to do now.

He was definitely lost.

He didn’t know where Work was from here, or how to find his mistress or any of her pack mates. He was tired and sore and had a hurt foot. He was hungry, too, and thirsty. And the alleyway he’d taken refuge in smelled of rotting garbage and stale alcohol and rats and urine.

And speaking of rats…Black Hayate growled, flattening his ears. A large, flea-bitten rodent, almost half as big as Hayate himself, twitched its foul whiskers at him from the top of the trash bin, most likely drawn by the faint scent of his blood.

Hayate growled louder, hackles rising. His foot was hurt, sure, but he was far from dead…and if this dirty rat and his nasty little friends were getting any ideas, he’d be happy to put them in their place!

Undeterred, the rat crept closer, its beady little eyes fixed firmly on Hayate’s. The pup stood slowly, still growling, careful not to put weight on his injured paw. Muscles coiled tense, he prepared to spring. A door flew open several feet away, startling dog and rat alike.

Before Hayate could react, the rat had vanished with a flick of its ugly bald tail.

Meanwhile, the young man who had thrown open the door into the alley trudged wearily closer, lugging a bulging trash bag. Hayate froze. The young man heaved his bag into the trash bin, dusted off his hands, and then fumbled in his apron pockets for cigarettes and a lighter, all without noticing the puppy. It wasn’t until Hayate took a hesitant step closer, lured by the familiar odor of tobacco smoke, that the man noticed him.

“Oi, you shouldn’t be hangin’ around here, mutt,” the young man said gruffly. But not unkindly, Hayate noticed. “Go on, now. Shoo,” he added.

Hayate limped a few steps closer, hoping to play on the young man’s sympathy. Maybe he had something to eat? The trash bag he’d been carrying had some interesting smells coming from it…Hayate paused to sniff the air enquiringly.

“Scram, pup. There’s nothin’ here ya’d want, anyway. Ya can’t eat empty beer bottles, can ya? Go on, now.”

Beer, huh? That was no good. It smelled nice, but it didn’t taste very good, and it definitely wouldn’t do anything to fill his empty tummy.

“Hey, kid, hurry up with that smoke and get back in here; we’re slammed,” a deeper voice called out from the same door the young man had just come out of.

“Sure, boss,” the young man responded. Taking a deep drag of his cigarette, he glanced back down at the bedraggled dog, who was still watching him hopefully. “Better not let the boss catch ya back here, pup. He’s not keen on strays, see? Go on, shoo!”

“Who are you talking – dang it, kid, you better not be feeding some stray!” The other man had poked his head out into the alley and stood now with his arms crossed and an irritated expression on his face. “You know they’ll only keep hanging ‘round here if ya start feedin’ ‘em!”

“I know, boss. I didn’t give him nothin’,” the young man said, defensive. He tossed his cigarette down and ground it out with his heel. The other man glared and reached back inside to grab a broom.

“Well don’t let him think you’re _gonna_! Scram, you lousy mutt!” he said firmly, brandishing the broom in Hayate’s direction. He didn’t sound _angry_ , but he sounded serious, and Hayate didn’t wait to be told again. He tucked his tail between his legs and limped quickly past both men and back towards the mouth of the alley.

Now what? Hayate couldn’t help the whimper that escaped his throat as he limped out of the alley and onto another unfamiliar road.

It reminded him of the time that he and his littermates had been taken from their dam and left out in a flimsy cardboard box lined with newspaper. The others, his siblings, had been taken one by one by kind hearted humans who’d clucked their tongues and cooed at all of them, until finally Hayate had been the only one left. Fuery had taken pity on him, that time, but not before it had started to rain.

As if on cue, the clouds above, which had been growing steadily darker all afternoon, suddenly lit up with a brilliant flash of lightening. An angry, rumbling peal of thunder followed mere seconds later, and Hayate cringed. He hated it when the sky growled like that – it hurt his ears so. But at least there wasn’t any…oh, nope, there it was.

A cold, hard sort of rain pelted down on the unfortunate animal, getting in his eyes and ears and soaking his fur almost immediately.

Pausing every so often to shake the water from his fur coat (which proved futile in the end), Hayate slowly made his way along the mostly deserted street. He sought refuge under a parked car, but was quickly chased away by the spitting feline already in residence.

The buildings here were larger, looming things with multiple stories. They smelled strange, to Hayate’s sensitive nose – like lots of different humans all at once, but with an underlying chemical scent of harsh cleaning supplies, with soap and food smells and Home smells and Work smells all mixed together. It was a very confusing place.

He was, in fact, passing one of many hotels in the area, which primarily catered to military personnel traveling on business and was known for its reasonable prices. Hayate was more interested in the large awning at the entryway, which would block the rain. But the sight of a doorman standing guard outside in front of the big glass doors frightened him away. He’d been chased by too many people today, and he was getting awfully tired of running.

Longing for his soft, dry cushion, and the warmth of Mistress’s hands in his fur, Hayate limped down side-street after alley after street after alley again, until he finally found an unoccupied box propped against a wall that smelled mostly clean and was large enough for him to take shelter in. Thoroughly miserable by this point, he curled into a tight little ball in the farthest corner. The rain continued to fall steadily all around him.

Shivering, Hayate wondered where his mistress was. Somewhere warm and dry, no doubt, looking after the rest of her pack just as she looked after him. If _she_ were here, she’d make sure Hayate was comfortable and content – she’d rub his sopping fur coat with one of those soft fluffy cloths until it was dry, and cuddle him close until he was warm again, and then she’d give him good things to eat and scratch his ears in just the right place.

He missed her desperately.

After fitfully biting at the thorn in his injured foot for a while (without making any progress – it was buried too deep, although the bleeding had at least stopped by now), Hayate curled up tight again, nose tucked under tail, and drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

It was pitch dark outside when he woke.

What was that noise?

Footsteps! And there was a light, too, flashing from side to side. Heavy boots clumped down the alley, and the beam of light crept from trash can to dumpster to pile of crates, growing ever nearer to his hiding place. What did it all mean? Was someone going to try to make him leave, again? Hayate flattened his ears and backed himself as far into his box as he could go.

The human with the light whistled softly, in an enticing sort of way. What did he want? Hayate wondered. Should he run away before the human got close enough to grab him? Or should he be brave like his mistress and chase away the intruder? He was tired of running. This was HIS box, dammit, and he was not going to be forced out without a fight, this time!

Just as Hayate let out a low warning growl, a familiar scent hit his nose: wool and metal, the faintest trace of smoke, and cologne – he knew that cologne! The light suddenly flashed right in his face, blinding him.

“Black Hayate? Is that you, little guy?” asked a familiar voice.

Colonel!

Hayate pricked his ears forward. This was good! Colonel would _definitely_ know how to find Mistress! His tail thumped dully against the damp cardboard as the colonel approached.

“There you are! You little monster, don’t you know how worried Hawkeye has been?” Colonel admonished him. “And that poor little old neighbor of hers is absolutely beside herself. You are in _big_ trouble, pal.”

Hayate whined and took a wary stop closer. Was Colonel angry, too? Why were all the humans so mad at him today? What had he done wrong?

“Aw, you’re sopping wet,” Colonel said in a changed tone. “Poor little guy, you got rained on, huh? You’re a complete mess! Let’s have a look, now. Come here, boy,” Colonel called, kneeling down and stretching out his hand. Hayate crept out of his sodden shelter and sniffed eagerly at the colonel’s hand. Was that…peanut butter?

YES! Colonel was his FAVORITE HUMAN EVER! (Besides Mistress, of course, but she wasn’t here right now and Hayate was really, really hungry, and peanut butter was the bestest thing _ever_. Well, next to chicken. And beef. And that crispy brown stuff the humans liked to eat with eggs. Maybe he liked the crispy brown stuff better than peanut butter, come to think of it…)

Crunching happily on the hard biscuit that the colonel had provided, Hayate barely even noticed the gentle hands running along his damp, dirty fur, feeling for cuts or lumps or anything out of the ordinary. When they reached the sore paw pad, Hayate yelped, but didn’t bite. He was sure Colonel hadn’t poked the hurty spot on purpose, and he would probably know how to make it better.

“Uh-oh…that’s right, let me see…good boy, Hayate, that’s it. Easy now,” Mustang said soothingly. Stroking damp, matted fur with one hand, Mustang used the other to locate the nasty thorn sticking out of Hayate’s hind paw. He yanked it out in one swift motion, and suddenly found himself with a face-full of grateful shiba inu.

“Whoa! Okay, all right,” Colonel said, laughing as the puppy licked his face with enthusiasm. “You’re all right now, good boy, Hayate. Hm? What on earth happened to your collar, you little rascal?”

Hayate whined. He hadn’t meant to leave the collar behind. But it had been stuck…

“Well, never mind that now. Come on, you. We’ve got to find Hawkeye. She’s been having a fit ever since we got back, you know,” Mustang said conversationally as he stood, bedraggled puppy tucked firmly against his chest. “Everyone has been searching high and low for you, for hours now. How in heaven’s name did you get all the way out here all by yourself, anyway? And there’s mud all over your nose. Just what were you up to all day?”

In reply, Hayate licked his chin.

Mustang laughed, and scratched Hayate’s head lightly before turning towards the mouth of the alleyway.

“Good thing they scrapped that mission and sent us back early, or who knows where you’d have ended up? You wandered into a pretty dodgy part of town, here, my friend.”

Snuggled up against the warmth of Colonel’s chest, Hayate didn’t even notice that the rain had started up again. The sound of running footsteps, however, grabbed his attention.

“Hayate!”

Mistress!

“Oh, thank God you found him, Roy!” Mistress cried, drawing the damp, dirty puppy from her superior’s arms into her own while simultaneously shoving the umbrella she had been carrying into his hands. “I was so worried about you!” she scolded, even as Hayate licked her cheek and whined. “Poor little Hayate, are you all right?” she crooned, taking in the mud-encrusted nose and paws, the wet, bedraggled fur and the slight stiffness of his movements.

“He had a thorn in his paw, but there doesn’t seem to be anything else wrong with him,” Colonel said in a soothing voice. “Besides being dirty and wet and tired, that is. I’m sure he’ll be just fine after a warm bath.”

“Yes, sir. I should get him home as soon as possible,” she replied, relieved.

“I’ll walk with you. Come on,” Colonel said, placing a gentle hand on the small of Hawkeye’s back and beginning to steer her out of the alleyway. As he was still holding her umbrella over them both, this of course required that she walk very close to him. But neither human really seemed to mind.

“Colonel Mustang, thank you so much,” Hawkeye said. A slight quaver in her voice betrayed her strong emotion. “I really appreciate your helping me find him.”

“Of course, Hawkeye. No thanks necessary,” Mustang replied, _his_ voice low and slightly husky.

Black Hayate looked up with interest. He’d long thought that Colonel would make an _excellent_ mate for his mistress. But, silly humans that they were, both she and Mustang both seemed to willfully ignore all the signs that pointed in that direction. And neither one ever made the requisite overtures toward the other. But at times like this…it seemed to Hayate that one or the other was _about_ to. He kept very still, hopeful.

The crackle of a radio broke the spell.

“This is Second Lieutenant Breda, calling all members of Operation Find Fuzzy Bum. Reporting search of Sector 35, quadrant 2 completed, with no signs of the target. Proceeding to quadrant 3. Over.”

Mustang fumbled with the radio at his hip. He managed to keep the umbrella angled over all three of them as he drew it from his belt and raised it to his mouth.

“Colonel Mustang, calling same. Stand down, men. Reporting search completed and target secured. Repeat, target has been secured. Over.”

“Oh, that’s great! Is he okay, Colonel?” Fuery cut in. “Er, over?”

“Fine, just a bit cold and wet, Sergeant,” Mustang replied, amused. “As I’m sure the rest of you must be by now. Go on home and get some rest, men.”

“Heck no, this calls for a celebratory drink! First round’s on me! Over!” Havoc said cheerfully.

“Second that,” Breda responded. “It’s freezing out here; we sure could use a pick-me-up. You coming, sirs? Over.”

Mustang smiled and glanced over at his lieutenant, who still had her cheek pressed against Hayate’s damp fur.

“Negative. The Lieutenant and I will be escorting said target on back, in order to ensure the safety and security of same. Over.”

“Understood, sir,” Falman acknowledged. “Please tell the Lieutenant we’re glad she found him all right, over.”

There was a brief cacophony as the others echoed the same sentiment.

“See you all tomorrow, Mustang over and out,” Colonel said. Returning the radio to his belt, he restored his free hand to its place on Hawkeye’s lower back, and they resumed their walk. Hayate snuggled close to his mistress, content.

For a long while, there were no sounds other than the rain pelting the top of their umbrella and the heavy tread of two pairs of boots on pavement.

“We’re going to have to start taking more walks around the city,” Mistress finally mused, absently rubbing Black Hayate’s ears.

“Familiarize him with the terrain?” Colonel asked, with a half-smile.

“Maybe then he won’t get lost so easily,” she said softly. “We’re miles from home. I don’t even know how he ended up all the way out here, and if we hadn’t been out looking for him….if you hadn’t _found_ him…” she trailed off, shaking her head.

“Yes, I see what you mean,” Colonel said thoughtfully. “I’d be more than happy to lend you a hand with his, er, education,” he offered.

“Thank you, sir. I’d appreciate it.”

“Of course. Can’t have one of my subordinates getting himself lost all the time, can I? It’d reflect poorly on my leadership skills!”

Hawkeye made no reply, but her soft smile and laughing eyes were answer enough for the Colonel, who simply grinned. Hayate, drowsing against his mistress, silently approved – both of this plan _and_ of the intimate moment between the two humans.

Being lost was Very Bad, he thought, sleepily. But being found again?

Now _that_ was even better than peanut butter.

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to long live marshmallows, who requested a story with Black Hayate getting lost, involving public transit.


End file.
